Mirage
by tomorrownevereverknows
Summary: It's probably been done before, but an insight into Peeta's thoughts after the rule change, with a slightly different outcome, because Peeta knows what he must do. And for a brief second, he wonders what could have been.


_A little author's note. This is my first fic ever, so please go easy! It was intended to be a oneshot, but could be continued depending on anyone wanting it to be continued, most probably from Katniss's point of view. Thanks for everyone that reads it, I really appreciate it!_

I see. A pathetic rule change, in attempt to control us, the pieces of their chessboard. And her. Katniss. I watch as she truly realises the situation. One of us must die. And it will not be her.

Of course it wouldn't. I knew this from the start. The moment my name followed hers in the reaping, I knew. I knew I'd do anything to protect her. Ha, like she even needed it. My eyes follow her expression. She seems, to my surprise, horrified. Maybe she truly thought we could both win. That we'd both survive. _Maybe she cares. _Her eyes flicker around the arena as she searches for another plan. Katniss seems to just blaze through any problem in pursuit of harmony...of happiness. I wonder what happiness is, or would be for her after this. Prim. Hunting._ Gale. _That thought upset me. He probably does care about her, a lot. But not as much as I care about her. He wouldn't die for. _I would. I am about to. _If I know even a single thing about her, she's probably still clinging to the idea we could both still live. Still win, together. Oh Katniss. For someone so strong willed and bold, she can be naive. I watch her pull the berries that I collected before into her hand, and I hurriedly grasp it, trying to suppress the shiver I feel at her skin.

"No, I won't let you."

"Trust me."

Her eyes meet mine for a while and she thrusts the crimson berries into my hand and nods continually, almost convincing herself of what she is about to do. I see her plan. We both attempt to commit suicide, the Capitol panics, we are both victors. I, probably unlike her, see the consequences of this plan. A harrowing lifetime of the Capitol watching her every move. This was dangerous, and although she probably didn't realise, it was a spark. A spark that could ignite something. Defying the Capitol..._if it was anyone, it would be her._ But she didn't see what it could cost her. They would rip everything she loved from District 12 and fracture it. I briefly wondered if they would use me. I wonder if it would hurt her.

And yet, strangely, I accept my death, willingly. Well, not so strangely. I love her. If only she could see how much. I've bluntly come to the conclusion I will soon die, and so I am determined to see the good in this. _I have absolutely nothing to live for, except her._ I envision the rest of her life. She'll return to the District. Return to Prim. She'll be back where she belongs, wisps of her dark hair running blowing in the slight breeze, the smell of the woods on her skin, eyes squinting as she aims at her prey. I guess, although it stings to even think about it, she'll probably become Gale's wife. I hate this. I probably would have attended their wedding, blinking tears of jealousy away from my eyes as they unite. Maybe even, as the lone years of my life passed, I would of baked bread for them. Decorated cakes for their children's birthdays. I try to hold in a sad chuckle at the image of the Everdeen-Hawthorne children, with their dark hair and dark eyes...and contempt for me. But I can't help but feel this is my best option. I would much rather this, a quick and emotionless death, than a painful lingering existence, as I waste away the years of my life, wondering what could of been.

I become aware that Katniss is talking to me, and realise these are perhaps the last words I'll ever hear. She's still trying to convince me of her plan, unaware I know exactly what I'm going to do. I hope she doesn't forget me. Maybe she'll remember me for the bread. She said she'd never forgotten. As I know I'm going to die, I allow myself to imagine what our life would of been like, had this had not happened. I imagine lifting a delicate, lace veil from her face, marrying her. Our first dance, her laughing as we ease through the music, giggling nervously at our silly dance moves.

I allow her to place the berries into my hand, and for once, think of myself, and realise I need to do this. And so I kiss her, gently, and close my eyes, continuing the fantasy in my head.

"The count of three." I murmur.

_I don't really need the count; I just want the last three seconds of my life to be your voice._

I press my back against hers, and numbly say something about holding out the berries so everyone can see.

_So you can watch this back and see that I truly, truly love you._

I hold back tears as she squeezes my hand, as she believes we'll both live.

_Goodbye._

And for a split second, for reasons I'll never know, in that moment, I imagine what our children might look like. I'd overheard her vowing once that she would never have them, and I hope that maybe, just maybe, I would've changed her mind. That the mirage of our life in my head could have been reality.

I smile at my final thought as I place the berries in my mouth.


End file.
